Boku No Hero Academia One-Shots and the Like

Number Thirteen: Clay Clad

"No. Just goddamnit, no." I mumbled as I wrote down the essay. Fifty pages in three days, I felt my soul being sucked out of my body like a moderately big leach.

As of now, I was on my first year of my Master's Degree. I really shouldn't be complaining; it is a scholarship, after all. It's just so much work. I couldn't balance out a job even if I tried; I was working towards being a model and being a psychologist, therefor my work load was double. I had a gig at one of the high schools in the area, and that was great in all except that it was graded by the teacher, not the college professor.

"Fifty pages to go, go, go..." I sang to myself, my fingers shaking over the keyboard.

-Four days later-
I glanced at the large front building. I made my way to the front of it, my sash slung over my shoulder. As I started to walk into it, I heard a small shout.

"Are you Nishihara Kurea?" I heard, and I glanced around to see a person with a large, white suit and a black mantis-like head. They seemed to have skinny legs though, and I nodded modestly before shyly approaching him.

"Yeah, are you the teacher who contacted me?" I asked, and he nodded. I quickly brightened up, smiling giddily. Making a good impression would lead to a better grade.

"If you w-"

"Awesome! So you're an art teacher? I love drawing, but I've never been that good." I said excitedly. In all reality, I was nervous to do something so absolutely scandalous.

"Yes," They accommodated for my cheer, "if you would follow me, I can lead you to the room where you can change." They said, and I nodded. They lead me onto the campus and into the building. In my mind, I cursed how amazing some of the hero suits were. My quirk was useless in the scene of heroics; I could mold my body for up to ten minutes; it was almost like clay. But I couldn't touch some parts of my body, and pressure had to be applied to it to mold it. I also had to activate it for it to work, so in the end I was never interested in being a hero.

"The students you will be modeling for today have been notified of what you will be doing, but not of who you are." They said, and I found that their voice was ever so slightly... cute.

"Right. I haven't been in too many magazines, have I? I don't think they would know me." I admitted, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of my head. This slightly ruffled my translucent, bob cut hair. My beady black eyes gazed upon the different types of students I could see and how their quirks were absolutely abundant. They're allowed to use them...

"Not necessarily. It should also be known that you are allowed to use your quirk, similar to how you can use it in your productions." They added, and I smiled softly. This was becoming a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

"Right. I would need your help with some parts of it, you see, my quirk makes my body similar to clay." I started, but the teacher finished for me. I started to question how they knew so much about me, but I guess that maybe my business card had my information on it?

"Yes, it also makes your skin slightly transparent and it slowly reforms to your body. Have you ever tried to work on your quirk?" They questioned, and I frowned slight as I thought about what he meant.

"No, not really, it's not fit to do much. It's nothing heroic, so I've settled with using my brain instead of quirk." I spoke slowly, and they hummed in response.

"Ah, but any quirk, no matter how small, can be grown. I think you will find many quirks in these classes that you will be surprised to know started out as very, very meaningless." They raised their finger as if making a point, and I raised an eyebrow.